


Birthday Candles

by ummmmm



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Birthday, Bittersweet, Chilling on the couch having an existential crisis, Friendship, Jim is half-changeling au/theory, Light Angst, Multi, Only shippy if you squint, the gang is middle aged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ummmmm/pseuds/ummmmm
Summary: Jim, now middle aged, enjoys a moment of peace on his birthday until he accidentally thinks too much





	Birthday Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, written on a phone, and my first fic! Whooooo!!! (sorry)
> 
> I don't own Trollhunters, as you have no doubt guessed.

Jim was curled up on the couch, watching the credits to the movie drift across the screen. The song playing was peaceful and had a hint of melancholy, echoing the mood of the cool blue light washing over the room from the tv. He could feel his legs beginning to cramp up underneath him, but he couldn't stand the thought of moving them and accidentally waking Claire or Toby- both of whom had fallen asleep on him at some point during the evening. It was his birthday- they had spent the whole day Not Celebrating Anything. The edges of his mouth quirked at the thought. It didn't bother him to celebrate his birthday anymore, not like it had when he was younger, but somewhere along the line it had become an inside joke to go completely over the top in avoiding any mention of his birthday while still having cake and festivities “totally unrelated to the time of year”.  
  
He was 46 now. It felt so unreal, as a teen he could hardly stand to even dream of the thought of reaching his 20s, let alone middle age. Even after they had defeated Gunmar and the Pale Lady, his PTSD had made it seem like death and chaos lurked around every corner. Peace had felt flimsy and utterly temporary, and relaxing had felt like a deadly trap. They’d had to suture together the gaping wounds of a community ravaged by war and prejudice; and Jim, being half human, half changeling, and all Trollhunter was mediator between all three groups- the only one who truly belonged in all three worlds and could be trusted to not be *completely* biased. (If Usurna had taught him anything, it was that politics was a deadly business. He swore he got sweatier in a single meeting than he ever had on the battlefield.) But in the end- they had survived. And then thrived, in their own way. It was nothing to brag about, but they were happy. They had never ended up having kids, but it really didn't bother him as much as he thought it might. Their lives were simply too hectic to justify adding babies in the mix. Still, it often felt like Jim was just waiting to wake up. It was just too unbelievably perfect to be real. The other foot was going to drop, or he would wake up and still be at war, or in the darklands, or find he was in some sort of hallucinated daze from his mind being devoured by the touch of the Decimar Blade.  
  
Jim suddenly realized that he wasn't breathing. _I need to ground myself before this turns into a full out panic attack_ \- He felt the textured fabric of the ancient couch they were heaped on, smelled the familiar shampoos of his family- Claire's slightly minty Cucumber Melon and Tobes’ earthier Ginger Coconut. Toby had ended up with the build of a linebacker, but he had somehow managed to contort himself to have his face smushed into Jim’s much smaller shoulder. He studied his face deeply. To his surprise, he noticed that Toby was beginning to collect small, spidery laugh lines and his hairline was starting to make a slow retreat up his forehead. He studied Claire next. She was beginning to show soft, thin lines under her eyes. Threads of ghostly blue light from the tv glinted off of her hair- the black was starting to be streaked with tiny silver strands. The signs of aging were subtle, but they were there. It had happened so quietly that he hadn't noticed it until this very moment. Jim suddenly felt an almost unbearable need to look at his own face. He carefully extricated one of his arms and nervously ran a hand over his face. The skin was firm. He didn't feel even the shadow of a crinkle near his eyes or on his forehead. His hair felt damningly thick and healthy. He was aging, right? He had to be aging. Even as a half changeling he was still half human. His movement jostled Claire and she sleepily looked up. She met his eyes and her brow tightened minutely.  
  
“Jim, what’s wrong? You ok?” Her voice was a tiny bit slurred from the sudden shift out of sleep.  
  
“I… Claire, am I aging? Do I look like I'm getting older?” He asked, his finger tapped against his thigh, betraying his nervousness.  
  
Her eyes filled with worry and her jaw tightened; the warm, gentle happiness shed off her body like a snake sheds skin.  
  
Jim instantly felt awful for burdening her with his “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”  
  
“No, Jim, we've been over this. We want to know what you are thinking- even if it is a bit heavy. I'm very glad you told me.” She squeezed his arm gently. “We love you, you know,” she breathed, so softly that he knew she meant it with all her heart.  
  
She suddenly sat up straight and grabbed his face. She leaned in so close their noses were almost touching. Her eyes screwed into an exaggerated squint as she inspected his face. “Hmmmmm… I think your eye bags are getting deeper, maybe. Although, Barb always looked weirdly young when she was our age, too. I mean, even now I'd say she looks about 50-ish.”  
  
She let go and Jim accidentally overbalanced into Toby, waking him up.  
  
“Mmmmph… whaaaaaaaa?” Toby mumbled. He sat up and stretched, his back cracking about three times before he relaxed back into the sofa. He eyed Jim and Claire, “And what are you two talking about, huh? Also- did Greg get the girl at the end? I think I fell asleep.”  
  
Jim let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, they made out in the middle of a gunfight.”  
  
Toby looked at him in mock horror. “Oh. My. God. _Spoilers_ , Jim!” Claire giggled.  
  
Jim groaned and dramatically flopped backwards onto Toby's soft but muscled chest, trying very hard not to smile. What would he do with them? The thought pulled the plug on the mirth filling his mind, draining him of everything but anxiety. What _would_ he do without them? For once, he was actually relieved at the knowledge that being the Trollhunter dramatically reduced his expected lifespan.  
  
Toby gently lifted Jim's hands from where they had crept up to cover face. “What's up Jim? Why so tense?”  
  
“Toby… I'm not sure if I'm aging right. I'm not sure if I'm aging at all.” Jim confessed.  
  
Toby wrapped his arms around Jim and breathed in deeply. “Huh… that would... suck. I’ll have to ask Blinky tomorrow if he knows anything.” He cracked a crazy grin and nudged Claire with his foot. “Althoooough… if it's true, don't rush too fast into dying. Claire and I will need some time to figure out how to break into the Void so we can have a spirit party when you get there. We gotta give those stuck up ghost bastards a _real_ reason to hate our guts.”  
  
Claire's eyes widened. “Speaking of parties, we haven't eaten the cake!”  
  
“Whoever gets there last has to slice it.” Jim announced. They raced into the kitchen, laughing and trying to trip each other the entire way.  
  
Jim smiled so hard he almost forgot his heart was breaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
